


Rock Me Like A Hurricane, Baby

by QueenOfNewOrleans22



Category: Bon Jovi (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:27:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28129119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfNewOrleans22/pseuds/QueenOfNewOrleans22
Summary: Jon was, in essence, a hurricane
Relationships: Jon Bon Jovi/Richie Sambora
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	Rock Me Like A Hurricane, Baby

Jon was, in essence, a hurricane. 

Sometimes, he lay dormant, and he would be standing there, and Richie would take advantage of, temporary as it may be, the gentleness, and try to lull him into a world where there was a lot to look out for - the sun, the sun, the stars. Jon would smile, and he would tell Richie that this world wasn't quite meant for him, but it never mattered. 

To Richie, the best things were the ones worth fighting for, and when Jon sat down next to him and said, "Let's go rent a movie," It was then that it all came crashing into place, like broken waves on a dirty beach. 

Other times, Jon was an accident waiting to happen, a hurricane of borderline catastrophic levels. He was a torrential storm, a man who would yell just as easily as he would tug you in for a kiss. He was destructive and bright and furious, too busy destroying worlds to build one. 

In some weird way, Richie hated it, but he loved it at the same time, because he thrived in chaos, and seeing Jon like a hurricane that was about to turn into itself and destroy its own life made Richie grin sloppily, and pull Jon in for a bruising kiss to ended with both of them breathless and wanting more. 

Jon was a hurricane, the sort that might never see the light of day, and Richie feared that every time he woke up, that the space beside him would be cold and empty, just like the body he would inevitably find. 

But for the temporary happiness that came with being so close to such a destructive force of nature, whose tongue was sharper than a knife but hands gentle as a mother cradling her baby, it was all worth it. Jon would never turn his tongue at Richie, nor the other guys whom he was slowly getting used to calling his 'family', but he was always flushed and embarrassed when he would turn into Richie's arms. 

"It all just seems so - scary, I dunno, I feel like a kid again." Jon rubbed his forehead against Richie's shoulder, lips pressed thinly together in faint irritation, eyes directed toward the floor. 

"Well, I'm here." Richie said, unsure of what he was trying to implicate directly. 

Words were tough when you weren't writing them down on paper, and they were awkward and clunky and stiff, consonants twisting together. 

"You're here for me." Jon said, looking up, shaking his hair out of his face. "Now, what can I do for you?" He grinned, lips pulled back from his gums, his canine teeth poking out from his bottom lip. 

Richie grinned back, only then realizing that he wasn't the island that Jon was about to destroy - no, he was the goddamn wind, who thrived on the blonde's chaos and fed into it, like a drug dealer who always slipped the druggie a baggie full of the old stuff. "Let's take you to bed, and we can find out." 

But they were too far in to back out, and too far entwined to pull apart, and when love met chaos, it created an irresistible taste. 

And neither of them, doubtfully, could live without each other without destroying themselves completely. 


End file.
